Before The Snow
by Luna-Dara
Summary: Joan gets injured and Sherlock takes it upon himself to take care of her, whether she wants him to or not? JoanLock Fluff
1. The Fall Before Winter

**A/N: Hey, Luna here. First and foremost I would like to say thank you to everyone who followed along with my previous FanFiction! I didn't expect as many people to enjoy it so it was definitely a good surprise.**

**Second, The holiday season is upon us and it has inspired me to write another JoanLock! I have several ideas in the process and this is the one that decided to surface itself. It's more fluff than the last one I wrote ("****_Missing"_****) but I hope that you enjoy it all the same! Please R&R and enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 1: The Fall Before Winter

P.O.V: Joan Watson

It was getting cold out. Frigid air, and when the wind blows it feels like glass cutting against your skin. Yes, indeed it was getting cold out. Days like this Joan wanted to be back at the brownstone more than ever. To sit in front of a fireplace with a cup of hot tea and a good book to read. But alas, that was not in the foreseeable future. For they were at a crime scene, that was at least indoors. Joan didn't have the attention span for this today.

"Sherlock, listen I have an errand to run. You have it from here right?" Joan asked.

"Of course, though I do not recall you having anything scheduled for today," Sherlock said while holding his suspicions. He saw that Watson was preoccupied otherwise. He had deduced that she would much rather be home today.

"It was last minute."

"Very well then, I shall see you at the brownstone later then yes?"

"Yeah," she said as she started taking off.

Once she was away from the crime scene she pulled out her phone. Looking at it she saw that she had messages from her brother saying that her mother was in the hospital and that it wasn't urgent and had asked if she would mind going in to check on her. So she proceeded to the hospital.

* * *

When she arrived at the hospital she went straight to her mother's room.

"It's nothing really. I think your brother is just being tad over reactive. The doctors said it's just a sprained ankle," Joan's mother said. Joan was quite relieved to hear that it wasn't anything severe. She sat with her mother for half an hour before she left.

She had decided that despite the cold she was going to walk back to the brownstone. She could use some non-Sherlock time. She had been working with him for over a year and a half and she had seen the many different sides of the great Sherlock Holmes. Sometimes he managed to be nice and say the right things at the right times, others he could be an utterly frustrating five year old.

Lost in her musings she did not realize a biker was coming by and almost knocked into her. She managed to see it in time and move out the way. Unfortunately luck was not on her side because her maneuver caused her to slip on black ice. She somehow managed to land on her rear but since she was close to the traffic pole her head managed to make its acquaintance. She sat there for just a moment holding her head which was ringing with pain. And of course, of all the people in New York City, not one stops to see how she's doing. _I knew I should have just stayed home today,_ she thought.

* * *

After some struggle she managed to make it back to the brownstone. The only thing she was thinking of, was to go in and take a shower.

"Watson! Do you know that I left you several text messages asking about your whereabouts, and are you aware of the time?" Sherlock asked as he came storming in from the kitchen. His voice was amplified thanks to her headache. Sherlock – taking note of this gesture – immediately followed up with a different question. "Are you alright Watson?"

"Yeah I'm fine, I just need a shower," she said electing to ignore the first set of questions. She hung up her coat and went upstairs.

* * *

P.O.V: Sherlock Holmes

As he watched his partner go upstairs he took note that she was walking a little odd as well as a spot in the back of her head that looked like the beginnings of mats. This struck him odd because when she had left earlier on her "errand" she did not look that way. She looked the way she always did, somehow stunning. _Get that thought out of your head! _He chastised himself. He was determined to figure this out. _Perhaps her mysterious errand was to see someone? Perhaps their coitus was intense?_ Sherlock thought as his mind began to dabble around the thoughts of Watson being with a man. _Get out! She is a grown woman and allowed to make decisions on her own!_ Sherlock yelled again at himself. These were indeed facts but he could not get the feeling of betrayal out of his system.

He remained there, by the stairs, in a mental battle of what his next actions should be. A part of him wanted to go up there and question her of her outing. He didn't like not knowing, and she was something that he was still trying to figure out. Yet, another part of him knew that it would breach their trust for each other. She did not interrogate him after the incident with her friend Jennifer.

His mind kept circling and circling, unable to come up with a conclusion. At the sound of Watson approaching the stairs he decided to go back to the kitchen and finish up looking at his case files that he had. He re-seated himself in his chair and feigned looking at the papers before him. When he saw her come in the kitchen, her hair was fixed but she still had an odd walk. Without a word she just walked in and went straight for the freezer.

"How was your outing Watson?" Sherlock decided to ask first. Seeing as she was not talking.

"Adventurous," she said sarcastically with a touch of a humorless laugh. She pulls out a frozen package of vegetables. She leaned against the counter and put it to the back of her head.

"You hurt yourself," Sherlock said rather than asked. Now things made sense, the mat must have been blood. And her odd walk must be from the fall.

"Black ice, I slipped and fell and became acquainted with the traffic pole. It's nothing really," she said as she maneuvered to make herself some tea. While watching her, the tinniest sliver of worry started to faintly grow inside of him.

"Do you require anything?" he asked. His fingers were drumming on his lap. He was debating of whether or not he should take over the preparations of the tea or not. He decided to wash out a mug for her, since he was sure that there were none. Watson glanced over at him.

"If you want some you should wash out an extra mug," she said. Sherlock decided that he would have some and so washed out an extra mug. She was still leaning against the counter holding the vegetables to her head.

"Wouldn't you much rather sit at the table?" he asked.

"If I do, I'm sure I'll fall asleep."

"May I assume that it is not a concussion? Your pupils do not seem dilated and you don't seem to be dizzy unless you are using the counter to support you in that respect," Sherlock said carefully studying her.

"Yeah, no I'm fine. I'm just going to make the tea and go upstairs," she said. They stood in silence. "I did check my phone when I got upstairs and saw all the messages you left. I missed them before because my phone was on silent."

"And you didn't think to get it when you fell and hit your head?" Sherlock asked, a bit annoyed by her action or lack of in this case. She took a deep breath before answering.

"No Sherlock, I didn't think of it. I knew I would be able to make it back to the brownstone and along the way all I thought about was how much pain I was in."

"If there is anything you should need for the next twenty-four hours then I am at your disposal."

"I don't think that will be necessary Sherlock."

"You don't necessarily have to act upon it, just know that if there is anything I shall be here. I read that in most head trauma situations you should at least have someone nearby to assist you if you need it. Also, I read that you shouldn't be eating or drinking for roughly twelve hours," Sherlock said as he reached over to turn off the stove.

"Sherlock, I said I was fine," Watson said as she reached over to try to turn it back on. He reached for her wrist to stop her.

"Watson, I insist that you go upstairs and get some rest," he said in a rather soft voice. She sighed in annoyance and reluctance.

"I'm _supposed_ to avoid stressful situations and work also," she said as she walked away from him.


	2. Frozen Pipes and Flashlights

**A/N: Hey Luna here, sorry it has been a while since I have posted. I was struggling a bit between what is the next move as well as studying for classes. I would like to say thank you to everyone who has read it and the people who are following! Without further ado here's chapter 2!**

**R&R and enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 2: Frozen Pipes and Flashlights

P.O.V: Sherlock Holmes

After Watson had retired to her bedroom Sherlock stayed up. He wanted to make sure that she got rest and did not try to sneak her way down to get her tea. He kept on listening for any signs of distress. He occasionally heard the floors creak from her toss and turn. It had been approximately four hours. He stayed up for the sole purpose to wake her up. He had also read that you should wake the person every so often to make sure that they are responsive.

As he made his way to her bedroom he wondered how he should wake her. He did not think that his usual tactics would be of good use here. He soon found himself in front of her door, still wondering how he was going to wake her up. He decided that the simple act of gently shaking her awake would be the best pursuit. It was the more likely to cause the least amount of stress option.

He gently opened up the door and eased his way into her room. He walked over and placed his hand gently on her shoulder and shook her lightly.

"Watson, wake up," he said while shaking her. She moaned out an inaudible string of words.

"What do you want Sherlock?" she managed to get out. Her eyes were still closed and she remained on her stomach.

"Just checking to make sure that you do not require hospital attention."

"I told you that I'm fine. I just need sleep," she mumbled the last part.

Satisfied, Sherlock left the room so she could sleep.

* * *

The next day the brownstone felt exceptionally chilly. As beautiful of a place as it was, it can get a bit drafty. After a moment Sherlock found himself thinking about Watson, _would this be too cold for her?_ He couldn't remember a time when he had thought of others without there being a cause and effect relation. He shook it off and went to stoke the fireplace. After he fixed up the fireplace he heard his phone go off.

_Ice pack or frozen vegetables please_.

It was from Watson. He figured that she must be in a significant amount of pain to not be able to come downstairs herself to get the item. Taking note that they had no ice packs, he decided to make a temporary one. He placed a bunch of ice in a freezer bag and sealed it. He went upstairs with the requested item and stood at her door wondering what the best course of action was. The sliver of worry was still there and it was slowly growing as well as a hint of concern was taking root. Sherlock decided he didn't have time to think about something as trivial as emotions at the moment. He knocked on her door.

"Are you decent Watson?" he asked as he opened the door and walked in. She was still lying on the bed on her stomach. He walked over to her and placed the homemade ice pack on her bedside table. She glanced at the pack then back at Sherlock.

"You asked for an ice pack so I made you one. At least with this I don't have to worry about the vegetables thawing and going bad."

"Thank you," she murmured as she attempted to sit herself up. Sherlock felt like he should offer to help, but he wasn't sure quite sure how with this new found concern taking root inside of him. He wasn't sure where the line was for him. Watson would fix him up and make him tea to help him get better. But a reverse companion relationship, Sherlock wasn't sure what he was supposed to do.

"If you need anything I am here to assist you in a rapid recovery," he said. She gave a small smile.

* * *

While he was sifting through some cases Sherlock got a message from Captain Gregson requesting his and Watson's assistance. He wanted to go, just so he doesn't have to remain in the brownstone, but that concern and worry that was growing didn't want to leave Watson alone in the brownstone.

He goes upstairs and walks into Watson's room.

"Watson, the Captain has just notified me that there is a case that is in need of our assistance. Since you are unable to go I have decided to go," Sherlock said. Watson looked at him for a moment.

"If you need an extra opinion I'll be here," she said. He nodded. He stood there only a moment more before he told himself to leave the room.

* * *

P.O.V: Joan Watson

Joan decided that maybe a hot shower would help relax the sores in her body. She was enjoying the quiet of the brownstone, something she rarely did without the concern of what Sherlock was doing that was keeping him quiet. She felt the difference in the brownstone when he wasn't there.

"Ah!" Joan screamed as she fumbled with the faucet of the shower. Her nice hot shower had suddenly taken a turn for the worse and turned shockingly ice cold. She moved as quickly as her body would let her and got dressed to keep herself from getting sick. She was blow drying her hair when it suddenly stopped and the lights went out.

"This. Cannot. Be happening right now," she said with a sigh as she hung her head. She finished towel drying her hair as best as she could before she made her trip to try to find the circuit breaker and boiler. She looked around her room for a flashlight and found one. She then made her trip downstairs and thought to check the kitchen to see if the circuit breaker was there. Not exactly too sure she decided to text Sherlock.

_'Where circuit breaker?'_

_'?'_ was the response she got back from him.

_'Power is out'_

_'Basement'_

She really did not want to make the venture down to the basement but it looked like she had no choice. She made her way carefully to the basement. _He has so much stuff down here,_ she thought. As she tried not to fall…again. She made it to the floor without any mishaps and was looking for the circuit breaker. She found the boiler and realized she hadn't the faintest idea of how to fix it. _This was a useless trip. I might as well just wait until Sherlock is back,_ she thought. She was freezing by the time she was out of the basement, the brownstone had grew cold pretty fast.

* * *

P.O.V: Sherlock Holmes

"Watson, I have brought some of the case files back for us to work on. I see that you did not succeed in finding the circuit breaker," he said as he turns on his phone's flashlight. "Watson!" he screamed after not hearing a response. He goes upstairs to her room and opens the door to find her sleeping. He let out a sigh that he did not know that he was holding.

He went downstairs to investigate the broken circuit breaker and broken boiler. Sherlock thought to himself as to the possible reason for his worry. He never wanted to imagine Watson being _hurt_. Hurt in a way that caused her to go to the hospital. He wouldn't admit it to her but he was glad that she didn't have to go to the hospital. That was a thought that he did not want to have. He managed to fix the electricity but he was probably going to have to call in a favor for the boiler, which meant that they won't have heat for a while.


	3. Cold Feet, Shoulders, and Hands

**A/N: Thanks everyone who is following this story, and a special thanks to everyone who writes the reviews I love reading them! Here's chapter 3, R&R and enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 3: Cold Feet, Shoulders, and Hands

P.O.V: Sherlock Holmes

"So were you able to fix it?" Watson asked sleepily from the comfort of her bed. She looked like she had many blankets around her just to keep herself warm.

"We most likely will be a few days without heat."

"You're going to freeze to death here," she said as her eyes closed.

"What do you mean?"

"Considering how you usually end up falling asleep you'll get sick and then I'll have to deal with you being sick and complaining that you're bored. I think it is better that we avoid the whole situation together and just share the bed and blankets until it's fixed," she finishes up with a yawn.

Sherlock stands there for a moment processing what Watson had said. Replaying the conversation over and over to verify that she had – in fact – invited him into the bed with her. He pondered on what he should do.

"Whether you decide to freeze or actually stay warm is up to you but I'd appreciate it if you didn't just stand in my room while I slept," Watson mumbled while her eyes were closed. Sherlock thought. He had clothes on that were doable for sleepwear and so took up her offer and joined her in the bed.

"Thank you Watson," he managed to say. _Why am I even doing this? I could stay just as warm downstairs by the fire! _

The worry from earlier was still nagging him: _what if Watson is not warm enough and becomes ill as well! Ah! I shouldn't be this concern for her…should I? _He thought to himself. He reasoned with himself that he was just concerned so they could get back to work. He, after all, was paying her to learn and do work.

~The Next Morning~

Sherlock woke up and then realized just how close he was to Watson's body. He felt her body heat radiating off of her. _This was most definitely much warmer than by the fire,_ Sherlock thought to himself. He just stared at her sleeping body. He wasn't sure how exactly he should go about this, he did not make it a habit to share a bed with another human being without there being coitus involved. He decided that he should get some tea and work on the case at hand.

* * *

P.O.V: Joan Watson

The sound of Joan's phone woke her up. When she checked she saw that it was a message from Jeff, the man from the dating site that her friend had set her up on. She remembered that she had had a good time with him. His message was inquiring about their date tonight, one that she had truthfully forgotten about. She wasn't sure if she would be able to go, afraid that she would just ruin the time with her inability to sit on non-cushioned seats. The bruise was going down but nothing heals that fast, especially a bone bruise.

She sends him a message back explaining what had happened to her and said that she would have to reschedule their evening for another time. When she looked back at the end table she noticed that there was a cup of tea waiting for her, _how hadn't I noticed that before?_ It was still warm. Thankful for it she took a sip.

* * *

~Later That Day~

Joan was on her way downstairs to get some food when she heard a knock at the door.

"I got it!" she screamed loud enough so Sherlock could hear her, wherever he may be in this place. When she opened the door she was surprised.

"Jeff? I thought I texted you saying that I couldn't go out tonight?" she asked as she replayed the moment when she thought she had sent him that text. _Maybe I didn't hit the send button?_

"You did, I got that text. I just figured that since you couldn't go out that I could come by," he said as he held up a takeout bag, "And bring you dinner instead."

Joan was genuinely touched by this gesture, and also she was nervous about how Sherlock might act. He always seems to get…peculiar around people other than Marcus and Gregson.

"So, can I come in?" he asked shaking Joan from her thoughts.

"Oh, yeah! Come in," she said as she opened the door wider.

* * *

P.O.V: Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock was on the roof, making sure that his bees were okay. He had vaguely heard Joan, but he did see a car parked in front of the brownstone and saw a man step out. He had looked unsure if this was the address he was looking for. But a part of him began to worry when he didn't see the man leave.

He carefully paced himself and made his way downstairs.

"Wastson, was there a client at the door?" he asked as he came downstairs. He was about halfway down the stairs when his phone rang. It was Captain Gregson with some news in regards to the case he was working on. Watson came out to the hallway just as the phone call was ending. "Are you well enough to work yet Watson? That was Captain Gregson informing me of some findings in regards to the case."

"No Sherlock, not quite."

"You have company here," Sherlock stated.

"Yes, it was unplanned."

Sherlock deduced that it must be the man that Joan had found on that _online dating_ site. A part of him – the part that was worried and concerned for Joan for whatever reason – wanted her to tell him to leave. He couldn't figure out why he wanted that. When he thought of Joan seeing these other men, it always put him in a grim mood. He wanted to tell her, but when he tried to say it…those words did not come out.

"Very well then, I shall send them your regards. Enjoy your evening and if your friend is going to stay the night please make sure he is out by the afternoon," he said bluntly. That's when she gave him a look of disgust, a face that read in a very Joan fashion, 'What the hell?'. He didn't know why he had said that, knowing that it would upset her. Not wanting to stand there any longer he took off to the station.

* * *

~At the Station~

Sherlock was sitting in the conference room with a file before him. His leg was moving about.

"You alright Holmes?" Detective Bell asked. Sherlock ran a hand through his hair.

"Yes Detective Bell, I am perfectly fine."

"You sure? Because you've been fidgeting more than your usual self."

Sherlock hadn't realized that he had been. He immediately stopped the action.

"How's Joan doing?"

"She is getting better. Better enough to have company," Sherlock mumbled out the last part. This did not escape Detective Bell's radar.

"I didn't know you guys had people come over," he said with a small laugh at the end. "So who's her friend?"

"It is a male friend who she has not introduced to me and I am trying not to look into it."

"Uh-huh," Detective Bell said as he crossed his arms. A small smile was playing at his lips.

"If you have something to say Detective I would appreciate it if you just told me rather than smirking at me over there."

"You'll probably say I'm wrong but since you asked, I think you're jealous that she's spending some time with someone other than you," he said then left before Sherlock could assault him with arguments that say otherwise. Sherlock was left there to ponder this statement.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! I'm a bit partial to writing as Sherlock, more to come!**


	4. The Experiment

**A/N: Luna here, so here is the next chapter. Sorry it's a bit small but I will hopefully be posting more frequent. **

**R&R and Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 4: The Experiment

P.O.V: Sherlock Holmes

On his way back to the brownstone Sherlock had been thinking about Bell's observation. He tried to come up with a reason to be jealous that she was spending time with another man. _Detective Bell had to have come to this conclusion somehow, some sort of evidence,_ Sherlock thought. This called for a full examination of his relationship with Watson.

By the time that he got to the brownstone he had more questions than answers. Something he did not like. Most of them leading back to the one statement he still could not quite figure out, _I'm better with you._ He had told her then that perhaps in time he would figure this out. Despite the fact that it has been over a year and a half he has yet to figure it out.

* * *

~The Next Day~

"Is everything alright Sherlock? You didn't wake me this morning," Watson said as she came downstairs. Sherlock was looking at the case file and answered without looking up from it.

"Just making sure that you receive enough rest so you may make a haste recovery. Perhaps you should make arrangements to see your friend again."

"Funny you should say that, he asked if I would be interested in going out with him tonight. You didn't hack into my phone did you?" she asked with her arms crossing her front.

"No," Sherlock lied without missing a beat even though, in fact, he had hacked into it. He felt her gaze on him, most likely trying to figure out if he was telling a lie or not. He continued to study the file.

Without another word she went to the kitchen and made herself some tea then proceeded to go back to her room. She hadn't given an answer but he was certain that she would go on the date. Enjoy whatever amount of "real world" time she could get.

* * *

~Later That Evening~

Watson had come down stairs in an elegant black dress with some makeup on. She looked quite stunning. Sherlock had to tell himself repetitively not to stare, or else the experiment would be ruined. After she left he put down the file and started thinking again about Detective Bell's words. The more he tried to focus, the more he thought about how she dressed for this evening's affair. And then he thought about how she would never dress like that for him, for they were partners. Nothing more. At this thought he began to fidget and pace.

"There's no logical reason for me to jealous. I socialize with women, there's no reason why she should not be allowed to socialize with men," Sherlock said to Clyde.

But he couldn't help but notice a tinge of…possessiveness. An illogical feeling!

"This experiment is not doing any just for my case Clyde."

* * *

~The Following Day~

"Remind me again why you had to accompany me to the super market?" Watson asked as she walked.

"To make sure that you do not hurt yourself. Can't have you walking into things or getting hit by more bicycles before you've fully recovered from the first incident," Sherlock said. Truth was, he was conducting – still – part of his experiment. He had observed her lack of presence last night, todays was to see how he would react when around her. The key factor here is, Watson always seems to draw subtle attention to herself whether she realizes it or not. But Sherlock always noticed. During the walk Watson was enquiring about the latest case. He gave her just enough details to satisfy her.

As the trip progressed he became more and more agitated. _Have there always been this many men? What do I care? This partnership is only for business. Anything beyond needs is unnecessary. Well there is the case of Captain Gregson and his wife. Perhaps to figure this out I should analyze that, well before their current predicament. _Lost in thought Sherlock almost did not catch what was happening before him. She had slipped. _Joan!_ He caught her elbow and steadied her.

"I'm fine Sherlock. You can let go now," she told him. He hadn't realized a few things in this moment. One being that she wouldn't have fallen, it was just a small slide. Two, he was incredibly close to her. Three, he was still holding her elbow. He felt reluctant to let it go. Four, he had mentally called her by her name.


	5. Advice on Thawing

**A/N: This story has 35 followers! Wow that's a lot! Thank you all very much for following and flavoring. I don't usually do this but I would like to say a special thank you to ****marshmallowdeviant**** for following my two stories and reviews and all!**

**R&R and Enjoy!**

* * *

~Chapter 5: Advice on Thawing~

P.O.V: Sherlock Holmes

After the experiments he tried to deduce an answer. However, the answer he kept arriving at was undesired. Every route told him that he was – in fact – jealous of the men that eyed and spent time with Joan. _I mean Watson! Watson._ He repeated to himself. He was becoming very frustrated with himself for lacking control over his emotions that were reemerging.

Every time he tried closing his eyes and clearing his mind his brain would recreate the closeness that he had felt with Watson. How he had the urge to not just hold her elbow but to pull her into an embrace that would surely cross so many lines. He had been living with this woman for eighteen months, the longest he's ever lived with anybody, without things going astray. He's become accustomed to the sound of her in the brownstone. If he were to cross lines, it could be the very thing to push her over and make her leave. Sherlock did not want Watson to leave. He needed to talk to someone, and Watson – this time – was not an option.

* * *

Sherlock found himself at Alfredo's home. He was staring at nothing in particular while he tried to collect his thoughts. Try to find the right ones to express what was going on.

"So when did all of this start?" Alfredo asked.

"A few days. She had come home injured. That's about when these…emotions began to develop."

"I hate to burst your bubble but I think you're just realizing these feelings now."

"That's impossible! I would have known about it sooner."

"Maybe her being injured weakened your mental guard, allowing you to actually feel."

Sherlock pondered this without giving a response. Trying not to give away any signs that he was considering his words. He reanalyzed all of their interactions with this new thought in mind.

* * *

"Come in," the low voice that was Captain Gregson's said in reply to the knock. Sherlock entered and closed the door behind him. The Captain had glanced up from his work and saw Sherlock enter. "I don't have any new cases right now, if that's what you've come looking for," he said as he looked back down at his work.

"Actually, Captain, I have not come by to enquire about that. However, I would like to talk to you. If you have a moment." Captain Gregson looked up from his work suspiciously.

"Take a seat," he said. Sherlock does so. There's a silence that falls between them.

"Captain, I have never regarded marriage as something important, rather it being a trivial thing that has long lost its use. However, working with Watson – as a partner – has made me realize the importance of it. What I would like to ask is, why did you marry your wife?"

"Why the sudden interest?" the Captain asked already with a good idea in mind as to the reason why.

"Come on Captain, both you and I know that you're a smart detective. You should be able to figure why I'm asking."

"So you like her, huh?"

"I do believe that the term _like_ is unsuitable to describe this."

"So you _love_ her?" Captain Gregson asked. Sherlock remained quiet. "So what are you going to do about it? Sit by and let her be taken by that guy she's been seeing? My suggestion is that you act now before somebody else does. Because you may have your views on marriage but I'm pretty sure if things go well and he asks Joan to be his wife, that's it. She'll move out and whatever you have with her will be gone. I don't know how much of you has changed but you may want to revisit certain assessments."

* * *

"Ha! I was right," Detective Bell said as a big smile took over his face. Sherlock didn't want to admit it, so he didn't say anything. "Okay so you want some inside information about her and Jeff right?"

"Affirmative."

"Well when I last spoke to her, she seemed pretty happy that he had brought her food. I wouldn't say that a proposal is around the corner but they're pretty far along. Just be careful with how you decide to home wreck. You don't want the opposite effect. I suggest that you just try to go with a classic, try to sweep her off her feet. Something she'll like."

"I may have a few ideas of how to go about this."

"I guess you do have a heart under all of that," Detective Bell said. Sherlock felt strange. He would say that he has always had a heart but understood the other meaning the Detective was implying. He most certainly was a different man than he was about eighteen months ago.


	6. First Snow, Fireworks, and Mistletoes

**A/N: To the 39 followers, THANK YOU VERY MUCH! A bit late but Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas(Missed it yesterday), Happy Hanukkah(Really late for that one), and Happy Kwanzaa (just started today)!**

**R&R and Enjoy!**

* * *

~Chapter 6: The First Snow, Fireworks and Mistletoes~

P.O.V: Sherlock Holmes

When competing for the same thing, one may have to do something…unexpected. Luckily, that was Sherlock's specialty. He wanted to give Joan – _Watson! Or does it really matter? I'll have to pick a name _– something special for the holiday. But the man named _Jeff_ had already gifted her with her favorite food, taken her out to see some shows, took her out to dine. All classical romantic gestures were out of the window. Not that Sherlock was considering being _romantic_, no, of course not. He was just merely listing of what he has to compete with, which were all very romantic gestures.

~Later That Evening~

"Sherlock where are we going?" Joan – he had finally decided on a name! – asked. They were at dock. Sherlock had called in a few favors for this gift, but he was sure she would like it. Sherlock began boarding the boat when he noticed that Joan was not right behind him. He turned to face her and saw her with her arms crossed with a stern face.

"I assure you this is not another case, or another test for you."

"Then what is it?" she asked. _Was she always this incredibly stubborn?_

"It is a surprise. I cannot tell you or else it ruins it." He stared at her and watched her initial surprise from his answer to a suspicious look. He gestured for her to come and she finally budged. As she walked past him a wave of the smell of her shampoo assaulted him. _I must be going insane!_ Despite the battle roaring within him, the part that had fallen for Joan was content to have her with him instead of _Jeff_. His logical side said that he was going absolutely insane over one woman. But as he thinks this, he thinks of Irene. He had spiraled down into a pit of despair because of her.

"So what now?" she asked. Her question snapped him out of his thoughts. But thankfully something else caught her attention before he could think of a retort. A loud exploding sound caused Joan to look out over the water. His surprise had started on time. He watched Joan's face light up with excitement as the show proceeded. He could not stop the smile that was trying to come on his face. She was excited and happy. "Is this the surprise?" Joan asked as she redirected her attention back to him. He simply nodded his head. She returned her attention to the show.

Moments later Sherlock felt something wet on his forehead. Just as he predicted it had begun to snow. He watched Joan as she smiled even wider at the sight of snow.

"The first snow," she mumbled as she closed her eyes and smiled and leaned her head back. When she opens them again she looks at the mistletoe that was hanging above them. In this moment Sherlock feels nervous. She then looks at him. "How much of this did you plan?" she asked suspiciously.

"Just the fireworks," he said. Half-truth. He did plan the fireworks, but he also picked the night with the more probable chances of snow as well as the placement of said Christmas item. However, his question to her was in the placement of the item. She continued studying him. _Surely she must see the question I want to ask her!_ Sherlock thought in frustration at the amount of time she was consuming.

Then, he got his answer.

Joan leaned forward and kissed him. He couldn't understand how he could feel so many sensations in just one kiss. He was scared yet anticipating what further sensations he could feel from other means. The kiss had started as an innocent answer to his question and grew. Like oxygen to fire, the kiss consumed almost every part of Sherlock's mind. He gently placed his hand on her cheek to deepen the kiss. Her arms were wrapped around his neck pulling herself closer to him, or he to her…_it doesn't matter._ His other arm was around her waist pulling her closer as well. He felt her smile against her lips and in reaction to it, his own lips began to form a smile of sorts.

The snow began to fall more frequent. The last firework went off. His plan succeeded. He never wanted to see _Jeff_ at the brownstone again. Or any man for that matter. He wanted to keep her to himself.

* * *

P.O.V: Joan Watson

She was sure that he planned much more than _just_ the fireworks. She was also pretty sure that with the mysterious mistletoe, a question was being asked. She had decided to answer it non-verbally and pretend that she believed that he only meddled with the fireworks.

But the kiss was much more than what she expected. She thought for a second that she _felt_ the fireworks that were going off in the distance. With the dual sensation of having his hand on her waist and his lips on hers she was sure that if she didn't hold on she would have fallen. She broke the kiss and just leaned her forehead against his and closed her eyes to help her steady her breath.

"Joan," he whispered, "I have something that I wish to convey to you," there was a pause. "I don't want you to seek anyone else. I don't want you to go on that horrid _online dating_ site anymore. I want you to very much remain at the brownstone and not get married to someone else and move out." She hears another pause and decides to open her eyes and look at him. He holds her gaze, refusing to let go. She saw a turmoil of emotions in his eyes.

"Sherlock…"

"Let me say this Joan. I am better with you, you are my better half. I need you to stay with me. If I'm to be addicted to anything at this moment, it would be to you. Our partnership has benefited us, I would like to try to be something more than just our current partnership."

"I love you too," Joan said as she kissed him.


	7. After the Snow

**A/N: I'm afraid to say that we are near the end of this FanFic. To be honest I'm a little sad to see it end but this is where it ends. **

**To the 43 Followers: Thank you all so very much for following this story! I hope you have enjoyed it!**

**R&R and Enjoy!**

* * *

~Chapter 7: After the Snow~

~Twelve Months Later~

P.O.V: Sherlock Holmes

Joan was out at the store, picking up some groceries. Sherlock had told her that he had conducted some sort of experiment that required the usage of half a gallon of milk, the entire contents of an egg carton among other things. Joan wasn't too pleased with this but did not seem to be cross with him. Surely after living with him for thirty months this has become expected. But in truth he just needed her out of the brownstone so he could fix the kitchen.

Sherlock took a moment to examine this thought. Eighteen months of living with her. Progressing from sober companion to partner. Followed by twelve months of a more intimate aspect. He still could not quite grasp the amount of change that has occurred within him.

But here he was, about to do something he never thought possible of him.

"Sherlock, I'm back!" Joan yelled from the main door.

He wanted her to be his, and his alone. He cared about her more than he was willing to admit in one sitting.

"You lucked out, they had a sale on eggs today so I decided to pick up two dozen. One for you and one to eat."

Observing Captain Gregson and the reason he married his wife, Sherlock tried hard to come up with a reason. But he was stuck. He lacked the ability to find a reason to marry. Yet, he realizes that he seems to already be in a situation like that with Joan. She lives with him. She helps make him better.

"Sherlock? Why are the lights out?" Joan asked as she flipped the switch for the kitchen lights. That was when he saw her take notice.

The only light in the area came from the dim glow of the fireplace in the living room and the soft light that came from two lit candles that were on the table.

Today was the day that he decided to clean up the kitchen himself. Today was also the day Sherlock remembered that Joan wasn't an exact replica of himself or of Moriarty and that she still had a spot for the "real" world.

Joan's hand covered her mouth as she was rendered speechless. Sherlock looked down for a moment and smiled.

Today was the day that he researched various versions of her favorite dish.

He guided her to the table and seated her.

"This isn't a test or anything like that is it?" she asked.

"Nothing of the sort my Dear Watson," he whispered by her ear before kissing just below it.

Sherlock seated himself and they enjoyed their meal while discussing their latest case as well as some background information on each other. Sherlock found himself enjoying that bit more and more and anticipated their next conversation. He was still fascinated by her, she still surprised him.

He cleared the dishes just as she was about to pick up her plate. He knew that Joan was suspecting something but was fairly certain she wouldn't figure it out.

"What's all of this about Sherlock?" she asked.

He approached her then held her hands in his.

"My Dear Joan Watson, I have practiced this speech numerous times and yet I stand before you unable to recall a single word of it. What I would like to do is propose to you. It would be up to you how we should go about celebrating it if you should accept. If you feel that this is too soon, know that my…feelings, remain as is and that I can and _will_ wait if I must. You have irrevocably and utterly changed me from the shadow of a man that you met to the person I am as I stand. You have shown me the importance of holding onto some meaningful relationships. I understand that there are moments where the thought of leaving has crossed your mind, where I push well past boundaries, but you stay each time. If you accept, I want you to think of this," Sherlock said as he let go of Joan and reached into his pocket to pull out a simple box and opened it, "as a promise that no matter what may happen, no matter what we may encounter, I am yours and that…I," he paused for a moment to take a deep breath, "That I love you Joan. So the question is: Will you Joan Watson marry me?"

Sherlock felt exposed. He left himself wide open for her to decide what to do with him. She could easily make him feel like the luckiest man in the world, make him wait, or make him spiral down further than before. Though anticipating each answer nothing could prepare the _feelings_ that swelled up inside when he did hear her answer.

"Yes," she said ever so softly. He heard though and his lips came crashing down on hers.

* * *

**A/N: Next and last, final chapter will be the Epilogue! Thank you again! **


	8. Epilogue: Spring

**A/N: So this is it! Here is the last chapter to Before the Snow! **

**To the 51 (OMG) followers: You guys are amazing! Seeing this many people is what helped me continue writing this.**

**To those who wrote a review: You guys are also super amazing and I appreciate the reviews, it helps me by letting me know I'm on the right track.**

**But alas we must come to an end. So I'm hoping that I may be able to write another one but until then please enjoy the final chapter.**

**R&R and Enjoy!**

* * *

~Epilogue: Spring~

~7 Years Later~

P.O.V: Sherlock Holmes

"Thanks again Holmes for the help on such short notice," Captain Gregson said.

"No problem at all," Sherlock replied while checking his phone.

"How's Joan doing?"

"Quite well, but of course you can ask her yourself later this evening. If you excuse me I have some matters to attend to before this evening's dinner," Sherlock said as he made his way to leave the precinct. On his way out he walked passed Detective Bell's desk, which caused a nagging to occur in his mind. Joan wanted to make sure that he was invited to this evening's gathering.

"Will we be seeing you this evening?"

"Yeah. Hey, do you guys mind if I bring a friend?"

"If you are referring to a Miss Nicole, then yes." Marcus just looked at him. "I'll have you know that Joan beat me to this observation." At this statement he just simply laughed.

* * *

Sherlock stood at the gravestone of the patient that had died in Joan's charge. The man that he could never meet. Yet, this man had done so much for him. If it hadn't been for his death, Joan would had remained a surgeon. She would have also been with that other man, tall, blonde hair. She would have never become a sober companion. He wanted to pay his respects but hadn't found the right thing to say every time he came to the headstone.

"I'm sorry, but thankful," Sherlock said as he placed a hand on the headstone.

* * *

When he entered the brownstone he was hit with a mix of aromas. Joan was cooking. She surprised Sherlock with her knowledge of cooking. He had questioned as to why she never really cooked before and her response was that he did not give her ample time to prepare a proper meal.

As he was fumbling with his coat he was attacked by a petite figure.

"DADDY!" it screamed as it jumped towards him. The child's game was to try to catch him off guard. But since he was the Great Sherlock Holmes, the child always lost the game. He caught her and hugged her.

"How's my little girl?"

"Good," she said with a big smile. The smile reminded him of Joan's. Much of the little girl's features reminded him of her. But there were certain things that were most definitely Sherlock. "Mum's been cooking all day," she said with an exaggerated sigh for emphasis. Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle.

"Sherlock! Make sure she brushes her hair!" Joan called from the kitchen. In response the little girl huffed and pouted. Sherlock put her down and she stomped upstairs to her room to – most likely – brush her hair. Sherlock made his way to the kitchen where Joan was.

"I take it she didn't win today," Joan said with a light chuckle as she turned to face him as he stood in the doorway.

"Not quite," he said as he made his way over and gave her a passionate kiss.

"I need to finish cooking Sherlock," she said with a small laugh. He was kissing his way down her neck and would have gone further if it weren't for the sound of little feet thundering down the stairs. Joan laughed at him. "I'll finish later," he whispered before she shooed him away so she could finish cooking.

"When are they getting here? They were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago!" the six year old girl complained. Just then there was a knock at the door and the child rushed off to it excitedly. Sherlock followed after her. He found that when he became a father he became a bit more…protective of Joan and his daughter.

He watched as she greeted their friends and rush off to the kitchen to her mum.

"Mummy, Uncle Marcus, Alfredo and the Captain are here!" she said as she rushed back to the guests.

There were some things that they really couldn't change. They couldn't quite find a proper title for Captain Gregson and so his daughter simply calls him Captain. He doesn't seem to mind. Alfredo did not wish for a title. However, Detective Bell was willing to entertain the idea of being an uncle to his daughter. And though he would never say it to him, it meant a lot to Sherlock.

* * *

Tonight was his turn to tuck their daughter to bed. He carried her upstairs to her room since she was falling asleep on the couch.

"Daddy," the little girl said just as Sherlock was about to leave the room.

"Yes?"

"Can you tell me a bedtime story?"

* * *

"It was quite a lovely evening," Sherlock said then kissed Joan on the cheek as he helped clean the dishes. Their guests had stayed a bit and they all chatted while having some desserts.

As Joan was finishing the dishes Sherlock put some music on and pulled his wife away from the sink and into a dance frame.

"I'm not sure if you realize but you have made me the luckiest man Mrs. Holmes," he whispered to her before kissing just underneath. Joan laughed.

"I think I have an idea."

"But I don't think you will fully comprehend it," he said then he kissed her with all the passion he had to try to explain to her.

"I think you have made your point," she said out of breath.

"Not quite," he said as he lifted her and carried her bridal style to their room.

He had everything he never had. He had his calling of being a detective. He had his wife, Joan. He even had a daughter. He had friends, people he could rely on. At this moment, Sherlock's life was complete. He couldn't ask for more. Except maybe an interesting case, one that would require both him and his wife. He secretly took enjoyment in working with her on cases.

THE END!

* * *

**A/N: THANK YOU AGAIN SUPER MUCH!**


End file.
